


Scorpions On The Road

by SaturdayProphet



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, Gen, I swear there is going to have more tags, M/M, Multi, Other, Scorpions (music band), Songfic, and yes this is going to be a destiel fanfiction but not only, but I don't want to spoil you yet on it, lots of numbers in this, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-02
Updated: 2016-05-02
Packaged: 2018-06-05 23:49:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6728272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaturdayProphet/pseuds/SaturdayProphet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It all starts with a song that's stuck in your head, a brother who shouldn't be missing and a band who's not supposed to be there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scorpions On The Road

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! So, this is supposed to be the translation of one of my favorite fanfictions (I've written it, meaning it was supposed to suck less than the others ahha.) But it became more of a second writing of an old work, and I'm quite proud of it.  
> I hope you'll enjoy it. I know this one sucks, and is kinda short, but don't worry, this is only the first few. Oh, and I'm getting this beta-ed soon, sorry for any mistake you may find.

It's around seven in the morning, your clock's alarm is ringing. The radio starts, staying focused on the chorus. Another day starting, you're almost sure. Outside, the sky is grey, like fog on a bathroom mirror.

_I can't explain... I can't explain ..._

"Don't explain and just shut up."

 

Usually, you don't hate the Who. But maybe it's the weather, the time, the day. Maybe today, when the song seems so different, you can't really appreciate.

Dean Winchester, still lying down in a cold bed, almost crashes his alarm to make it stop. That's you. Things are always easier when you don't refer to yourself as you.  
It's barely past seven, maybe one day you'll have to sit and think about why waking up at nearly dawn, when there's nothing to do is a really bad idea. You look at the empty bed, next to you, and sigh. It was rare, for you to wake up alone these days. But, strangely, the last case you solved drove Sam two states away from you, lost somewhere. And, while you took care of everything, your brother had managed to find another case.

That's why you're awake.

To join him. Not to listen to Scorpions murdering one song.

 

_I can't Explain, I can't explain..._

Or maybe it's just the broken radio which keeps singing.

 

The verse stays in your head, and you don't know why. The road is long, long as you drive away, followed by the scent of gasoline and old leather, powder and the sun. You don't exactly know where you're going, but not matter the roads, you know where you have to arrive. You're driving just to hear the engine roar, feel the wind caress your face with your window open and to hear the guitars on the radio. Still Scorpions. You have found a mixtape somewhere, deciding it was worth a shot. The singer's voice is nice, and you definitely don't mind the whole idea coming out of their songs. Especially _Lovedrive._ They left a sting in your soul, something that can never be totally cured.  
It's harmless. it's dangerously addictive. The songs are filling the car with their words, and for a moment you forget where you are.

You're just the road and your car.

 

"Dean."

  
Until, sunddently, flapping wings and a voice to your ear - deep voice, certainly not Klaus Meine's - bring you to reality.  
The sun in your face, the steering wheel in your hand, the smell of leather and Castiel. Your present day is back, kicking you in the face with energy.

_I said I can't explain..._

"Cas. "

You sulk under your breath. For a short time, your drive has been strangely wavy.

"Dean, this tree is dangerously close, " he notices as you're doing your best to stay on the right side of the road. The scorching sun is making the inside of your car, even your skin, feel hot.

But you keep driving.

"I know. And I already told you not to appear like that when I'm driving. " You answer. You're not angry at him, simply slightly annoyed. You know he knows how to use a phone, he could have just called.

You turn down the volume, slightly, just so you can hear his voice over the guitars and the german singer.

 

"So. What's new?

\- I have something for you. "  
  
You see him, from the corner of your eyes, reach for his pocket and get something out of it in a quick move.  
It's a piece of paper. Something torn from a notebook,probably, and for a moment you wonder what he may want to do with it.

"Yesterday night, I heard Sam praying for me. Everything seemed confused, and the words didn't have any sense, " he starts to explain. You tense a bit : yesterday night, you've talked with Sam. He seemed alright. Sagely waiting for you to hang up to go to bed, probably. "so I went to see him.

\- And? "

 

The road is long, dark under the tires. You think it could last forever. Just you, Baby and the road. Sam somewhere at your side, Castiel too. An eternal road on a sunny day, not tainted by worry, as it is now.

"And nothing. "  
A frown appears.

 

"Nothing? Cas, how can...

\- Nothing, meaning he wasn't there at all, Dean. No one had been there for decades. I could feel it. It was this room, lots of seats, and a stage. No lights. "

  
You look at Castiel, lost for a moment.

"Hmhm. Like a place for people to perform?

\- Exactly. "

 

Sam has mentionned to you a music band. A metal music band, who came from this small town you're heading to - it's plural, now. Cas is with you - and who was apparently known. Like, worldwide known. And to leave, behind them, ravaged rooms, destroyed theaters, burnt buildings.

Except no one has never heard about them. People go to their concerts, have fun, enjoy themselves, but when they leave, the name of the band is never the same.  
So sometimes, it's Iron Maiden. Mostly, it's Scorpions. It had been Justin Bieber once.

The only way to link them is, apart from the destroyed rooms, numbers, like painted on the walls.

 

" How was the room?  Burnt? Upside down?

\- Dusty. " is the only answer you can get, as you drive into a small town. You're only crossing it.  
Your destination is still so far away.

_I'm feeling good enough, Baby._

_I'm dizzy in my head and I'm feeling blue..._

With a small sigh, you wait at a red light and look at Cas. He seems curiously interested in the paper he's holding, but, from time to time, you can see his head moving up slightly, like a cat hearing a new sound. The song, he may enjoy it.

Maybe his music tastes are not too bad, after all.

 

"So. What's with this? " you ask as you indicate that thing he's been holding since he appeared.

"Oh, it's a poster which was on the floor. I thought it could be useful."

You glance at it. It's a wide piece of paper, old it seems as the edges seemed round and soft. The faded white and gold colors tried to form a word, but like a bad dream the meaning remains unclear to you. You squint, but the letters make no sens.

 

"Foyer?

\- Home." the angel answers.  


You get out of town. You're driving with a purpose, now. Every breath is welcomed by an unknown question, and half an hour ticks away before you finally start talking again.

The road is quite long, and this town so far away, that every word can be thought a dozen times before you phrase it.

 

"Home?

\- Home. It can also mean 'heart of the fire', but I seriously doubt... This wouldn't be appropriate.

\- What, because Home is the appropriate name of a metal band? " you huff, catching a glimpse of Cas' expression. "What?

\- It's a pretty good name. "

 

And you can swear, at this instant, he's almost offensed.

 

_I can't ExplainI can't Explain_

"Then don't explain. " You mumble as you try to change the mixtape. This song has been going non-stop for a few miles now, and you're getting tired. It doesn't move, stuck on the same verse forever. With a sigh, you just sit comforably.

 

"Do you have numbers with your paper? "

In the shining light of the late morning sun, the dazzling blue gaze of the angel seems like an understanding sky to you. "Or anything that looks like maths...

\- Actually, yes. They were written on the other side of this, and unless I'm wrong, it's Sam's writing. "

 

He reads them aloud, a frown deepening on his face.

 

"5210101 420 95 265 1010000 2100100 190 41103  325 270 205 2510001 245 180 3110000 380 4010101. "

 

Let's see the bright side : you can always try to play lotto.

 

"... Alright. " You say calmly. "So, this is this, behind a paper, written in Sam writing -- Sam who's missing.

\- Yes, that's what's happening.

\- Okay... "

  
You sigh, glancing at the papers. "Any idea on what the numbers could be? Because, as far as I know, the only supernatural thing in this whole story is my brother going missing.

-Added together, they make 142.

\- And? "

 

The road eats up alive his answer, and you fall together again in a comfortable silence, only broken from time to time by the mixtape singing.

_I can't ExplainI can't explain_

You think you've totally broken it. What a shame.  


"It's not a case. " You decide out loud, as with one hand you start to try and stop the music. But it's still broken. It's still stuck, as the song is stuck in your head, as your heart is still stuck in your chest, your feelings hidden by ribs and thoughts.

It's stuck.

  
Cas reaches out to push your hand, and for a moment as your fingers brush, something makes you shiver.

"I don't think you can fix it. " you say.

 

But maybe Cas is the angels of mixtapes and long roadtrips around noon. The angel of musical miracles in the scent of oil and memories, plastic and speed.

The only thing you know, for sure, is that the song starts playing again, and that the angel at your sides, in this light, seems to smile.  
  
_I can't explain, I think it's love._

 


End file.
